


A Helping Hand

by Lexi_Noctura



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anger Management, Friends are here for you!, Gen, Hurt, Imagine your inner demons, Inner Demons, Panic, Therapeutic value, first original work, helping hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23932942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexi_Noctura/pseuds/Lexi_Noctura
Summary: How does it feel, to have that clawing beast inside of you, trying to stand up for your self but at the same time trying to please everyone around you? How torn can a person feel within a split second, and how hard can a simple question hit someone?And how a simple touch can ease the storm inside of someone?
Kudos: 1





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> I was having a rather tough time a while ago and started to write about it, in hopes that it will help me somehow to deal with those nasty things called "feelings"...  
> I learned pretty fast, that its a pretty safe way for me to work through my problems, and when I showed one of my friends what I did, she just said I should try to show it to others too, why I don't really know.  
> So I put it up here, with three major targets:  
> 1\. To maybe somehow show people how torn apart someone can feel at times  
> 2\. To improve my writing by getting criticism, good or bad  
> 3\. To maybe even help someone who feels like that at times or feels lonely, misunderstood, not understood at all, or like he/she isn'T normal, because of the way he/she feels.
> 
> and 4th: I am not doing this to get some sort of pity (or something similar) to gain attention or to point a spotlit to myself saying: hey, look how bad her life is! It isn't! Everyone's life sucks at one point or another. This is something I just want to put out there for people to enjoy (?), maybe to learn from or just to feel a little less alone

“I swear, if he is pulling the same crappy move like last year, I am going to kill someone!” A smirk crossed one of her teammate's faces’, knowing exactly how pissed she was last year after their coach made her a referee without asking her, giving her a head start or really explaining, what she had to do. She nearly punched him then and there in front of all the other masters.  
“Lexi?” Her name boomed across the empty space, making her head whip towards the source of it. Her coach was waving her towards him, while surrounded by all the other team leaders, masters, and coaches.  
“I am going to kill him!” She growled under her breath and jogged across the stuffy hall.  
“Yeah?”  
His hand found her forearm, touching her in that friendly way, which made her wary every time. She didn’t really like it, when someone was touching her, especially, when that person wanted something from her.  
“You can be referee again, right? You just have to judge the fights and give up your vote for the winner.”  
I just have to… WHAT?! Her mind went overboard, her thoughts chasing each other faster than she could follow and pulling her into a state of fear of failing, disappointment self-doubt and fury, that she so easily gets caught in. She felt her mouth open up and closing again like a dying fish, all the while her face started to feel unnatural hot.  
“I… What?” She tried to push the fear down, banishing it from her thought, and decided to let her anger protect her from the terror she felt inside.  
“It’s easy, really. You can do it.”  
If looks could kill, he would drop dead in an instant over and over again, she was sure of it, but she nodded, unable to say something without breaking into a fit of rage or become a crying mess. And just like that, she was once again his little bitch, standing in a crowd of people much more qualified and experienced than her, while she felt like an imbecile for not being able to say no. Her hands were clenched behind her back, and while she forced her stature to remain still and keeping her emotions from showing on her face, her nails dug into her wrist, half hoping half fearing to pour blood. A part of her hoped to feel blood seeping through her fingers, giving her inner demons a way to escape her body, while the other part desperately tried to keep herself in check. To keep her from hurting herself, to throw a fit, or to say something that she would later regret.  
Breath.  
Punch him, hurt him, kill him! Just do something, you coward!  
Calm down, it’s okay, you can do it.  
Go, leave! Run! Get away from here!  
Her inner voices were battling each other, pulling her from one corner of her mind to the other, confusing her, hurting her, haunting her. 

The next hour was spent with a deep hatred for the world, her coach and the tournament, bloody picture in her head, a nervous tipping foot and fingers curled tightly around the small flags someone shoved into her hands. She was supposed to show her vote on the winner with them, of a fight, she had no idea off.  
“Next fighters on stage three: …” Her blood froze solid. No! No, he can’t do that to her! She can’t judge them. Please not them! They are her team, people she likes, she can’t judge her sparring-partners, the ones that were always better than her, teaching her, beating her up and later smiling at her with a mixture of concerns and amusement.  
A rush of fear flooded her veins, chased the ice away, and made a shiver run down her spine before her legs started to move on their own accord. For a second she didn’t hear a thing but her heartbeat in her ears, saw nothing but the floor moving under her feet and felt nothing but her cold fingers digging into her forearms. Panic joined her fear, ran through her veins, and made her skin prickle, while her feet carried her up and down the hall.  
“We need one more referee!”  
Please not me, please, please, don’t call me! She continued walking up and down the hall, but kept her distance from the judge searching eyes, involuntarily ducking her head.  
“Where is your coach?” One of the other coaches was standing in front of her teammates, scanning the hall while watching the one who was about to fight.  
“Over there, he said…” The voices faded out again, her feet moving around while her hands clenched her forearms even tighter.  
Breath!  
Run!  
Scream!  
Cry…  
“Hey Lexi, are you alright?”  
“No. No, not really.” Her voice was harsher than intended and the familiar feeling of self-loathing filled a corner of her mind.  
“You can be his coach, right?” Her feet froze on the spot. The panic from earlier hit her like a wrecking ball, nearly made her double over. No!  
“Wha… What? No. No! No, I can’t! I can’t…You are not making it any better!” Her voice rose and broke at the same time while her finger pointed towards him, ready to poke right through his chest. She felt tears rising in her eyes. Later she couldn’t tell if they were truly there or if she just imagined them, while she looked down at him in a mixture of fear, hatred, and panic.  
“Dom, could you…?”  
“Yeah, sure…”  
The third member of their team nodded and walked over to the one about to fight. She started to move again, this time towards the door.  
“I am outside.” The last piece of clarity forces her to shove those words towards her friend and then she was gone. Ignoring any kind of answer or reaction, she pushed through the door, out in the fresh air, hoping the cold would calm her down and clear the demons away again. Too many people! Her legs started to move again, faster and faster, till her feet pounded on the pavement, carried her away from the gym hall, away from the expectations of other, away from the panic she felt only minutes ago around her throat and – hopefully – away from the destruction she felt inside of her.  
Run. Just run. Get away from there!  
Breath, calm down!  
Go back, you coward!  
Punch him, do something, anything!  
Run!  
Her mind was racing, just like her legs. She passed the cemetery, thought for a second to go there, and maybe seek peace in the silence, but couldn’t handle another flood of emotions right now, so she continued running. Way to soon her lungs started to scream for air, her poor stamina stabbed her in the rips and forced her to slow down. But she didn’t stop. She walked and walked followed the line of buildings surrounding the gym hall. She wanted to get away from that place, but not too far to not be found by her teammates if he really wanted to. Right now, she couldn’t handle them, hated them even a tiny bit, and was afraid of them, but she didn’t want them to worry about her.  
Breath!  
Run!  
Cry…  
“Easier said than done!” Her voice was quiet but sharp, her eyes flickered to her right.  
She started to imagine the part of her, she hated and loved at the same time, walking along beside her.  
“What would you do, Rose?” The person beside her started to look like a character from one of her books, stubborn and proud, fearless and tough, and so many other things she wanted to be.  
“Rose?”  
She just smirked. Probably kick your coach’s ass. Or beat up your teammate with one of those ugly flags. Imagines flashed through her head, showing her, what Rose described her in vivid colors. But Lissa would rip me a new one afterward, and Dimitri would come up with some sort of Sen-crap, so maybe not the best idea… A small smile – not more than a twitch of her lips – appeared on her face.  
“That sounds like something you would do…”  
I would have ripped their heads off! The deep, rough voice replaced the softer one of Rose beside her, and where a person was in her head just seconds ago, was now a nearly four feet tall wolf, with black fur and purple streaks.  
“Ira.”  
Yes. The deep voice vibrated through the air and filled her head, chasing the fear away for a split second and replace it with anger. She could almost feel the wolf's fur between her fingers and its muscle under her skin.  
“Stop it, you are not making it better!”  
She heard a growl in her ears, and the wolf was gone, replaced by another figure of her broken mind.  
She couldn’t say who it was, his features morphed from male to female, from black hair to long brown curls and back to a short beard and a scarred face.  
Don’t…  
The voice was her own, making her laugh a bleak laughter and her lips curl into a tight snarl. She took a right turn and stood in front of a dead-end. A small row of bush and trees blocked the way to the street she actually wanted to take, but they didn’t stop her. To walk through the poking and scratching twigs was even calming in a way, letting her focus on their stings for a moment, before her own thoughts swallow her again. Her nails dug into her arms again, marking the already scarred skin with thin, deep lines.  
Don’t!  
“I can’t!”  
Focus! You don’t want this, you now that this is not the way.  
“Then what is the way, huh?” She started to pace in front of a building that looked a lot like a school, constantly climbing up the stairs, just to turn around and go back down.  
Not this.  
She forces her hands away from her skin, spread her fingers in wide angles, straining them and made her tendons jump under her skin, anything to keep them from biting back down.  
Hey, it’s not that bad!  
“Fuck off!” The blurry figure that followed her just moments ago changed into one of the few people who knew a bit about her problems but didn’t see it as a big deal. The one and only time she really talked with him about her conflicts, he made it sound as if everybody has problems like she had as if she was just exaggerating as if it wasn’t a real problem.  
That’s was not very nice…  
“Well, I don’t care, and now fuck off!” She growled. Her voice was still quiet, too afraid to lead anyone to her just now.  
You know, he was right.  
“What?!”  
Her own voice was back, the figure beside her morphed again from one shape to the next.  
That was rude, even though he deserved it. You are feeling any better after yelling at him?  
“No, of course not.”  
Focus. Listen to my voice and focus. Breath.  
“I can’t…”  
Sure you can! It nearly felt as a hand touched her shoulder lightly. Focus on your anger. Focus on your rage and fear. Focus on how you are feeling right now. Red colors flashed through her vision for a split-second, and she felt her heart beating in her throat, making her breathing hitch. Good. And now breathe through them. Breath past that urges to feel pain. Focus only on the air in your lungs.  
She forced herself to stand still, her hands still spread wide in the air, and took an unsteady breath. The anger in her wanted to escape, wanted to take control again, bite through her skin, and scream in frustration.  
Just breathe, it’s okay. Another imagined touch on her shoulder and another breath. Her breathing started to fill her mind, became clearer and steadier, as she stood there for several deep breaths, just focusing on the air around and within her. She started to feel lighter, the pain inside of her slowly subduing and the raging beast back in chains in the back of her mind. She felt the wolf Ira beside her again, growling for a second, and then her anger was under control too.  
Good.  
“Well, good is something else…”  
…but I’m ready to go back now…  
She went back to the entrance of the gym, slowly, taking her time but not out of fear anymore, but to postpone possible questions from the team. One last left turn and she was within sight of the doors again, a couple of competitors standing outside, talking, smoking, training. A redshirt appeared in front of her and she knew that her time was up.  
“You should go back inside again, you are all sweaty and just going to get a cold…”, She looked down at his bare feet, “especially without shoes and just a shirt!”  
“I don’t care about that right now. Right now, I am taking care of you.”  
He took a step closer, and her first impulse forced her the same distance back, her hands slightly rose. Shit! She hated her uncontrolled reactions and felt her anger already rise again, but pushed it down to the darkest corner of her mind. He didn’t seem to be offended by her reaction and was just about to say more when a knock on a window caught his attention. His stature went from concerned and cautions to tense and somewhat worried.  
“Jay got a pretty bad beating; you should come and see.”  
“What?” She felt her heartbeat rise again, although this time not out of anger, but out of concern and protectiveness.  
Breath…  
She followed him inside, rushed past a weird looking man with a grey beard and too greasy hair until she was standing in front of her teammates once again. Her coach was arguing with one of the judges while Dom was looming in the back keeping an eye on his friend. Jay looked bad. His head was red, sweat covered his face, and hair and anger burst out of his eyes. The most visible injury was a big, bloodshot bruise on his forehead.  
The argument of her coach and the judge got more heated, and her already beaten up teammate had to join too, partly to defend himself, and partly to explain what happened. She could see that he was nearly losing it, playing skip-the-rope with his fury and the tears that threatened to find their way outside.  
She couldn’t watch any longer, her mind already starting to shut down because of all the arguing, the growing bruise on his forehead, and the realization of what happened. His opponent apparently didn’t understand the concept of semi-contact and nearly beat him unconscious, before he broke off the fight, threw his gloves onto the mats, spit out his gumshield, and marched out of the ring.  
“Phil…” Her hand rested on her coach’s shoulder, trying to make him look at her, but he just sent her a glare to wait.  
“I’ll go and take a shower, get dressed, and watch the fights, I am not fighting anymore today. Or any day here!” And with that Jay walked away, his bag thrown over his shoulder, muscles tense and nearly stomping holes into the floor.  
She watched him leave, and then asked her friend, what will happen now.  
“Dom is now fighting against Jay's opponent.”  
Her eyes went wide again. “Wait, are you saying he has to fight that prick that just beat up Jay?”  
“Yeah...”  
She started to pace again. She doubted that she could watch another one of her team getting a beating from that… that…. Prick! Ass! Jerk-Off! Son of a…! Her mind came up with dozens of names for a man she hadn’t even talk to, but the protective part of her didn’t care at all. She didn’t want to know him and even less see him in the ring with one of her teammates.  
Breath. Lexi, breath.  
Her voice spoke again, keeping her inside of the hall. She stopped pacing and instead of running off again, like a part of her so desperately wanted, she forced herself to sit down next to her friend and put her hand hesitantly on his shoulder.  
“Are you okay?”  
“No…”  
“Can I help you somehow?”  
Her hand twitched for a second before focusing on her fingers to not dig them into his bones.  
“You already are, thank you.”  
“Sure, whatever helps you.” He gave her a soft, knowing smile before turning towards the ring. He remained silent afterward, while she felt his heat seeping through his shirt and into her hand. Later she would smell just as bad as he did, but right now her hand on his shoulder was everything that kept her inside of the building, and relatively calm, so she focused on that. Focusing on her fingers, the warmth he radiated of and his calming aura letting them slowly wash over her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for ready through my inner conflict!  
> Of course, all the names were changed but otherwise, it happened more or less like that. As I said, I didn't write it for your sympathy. All your comments are welcome, good, bad, critical, questions, whatever else you want to say, just please stay fair!


End file.
